Submission Moves
by shannygoat
Summary: Have you ever watched a match with Cena and Orton? My musings on the two of them in the ring. Rated M for language and mature content. One-shot


_A/N: Thanks to Queen of Kaos for talking with me about this one. Everytime we see John and Randy in the ring, we always think the same thing. Ever notice how it's only John that Randy's like that with? This is my idea of what goes on when those two boys have a match together. _

* * *

The pain is his neck was enough to make him cringe with each step that he took. But he wasn't concerned about that right now. The only thing John Cena was concerned with was getting back to the dressing room. Not because he wanted a hot shower to work out his cramp, although that was going to happen. But, because he had a bone to pick with one man in particular, his opponent during tonight's match, Randy Orton.

Taking large strides, John passed a few of his fellow co-workers standing around the monitors just behind the stage. A smiles and giggles from the guys and Divas alike was enough to make John clinch his jaws as he continued. With a large hand running across his face to wipe at the sweat, he narrowed his eyes at the particularly wide grin of Adam Copeland. Adam had been in the ring during the six man tag team match. He had witnessed everything up close and personal.

It was time to put an end to this shit.

But before John could round the corner, he came face to face with Hunter. Still decked out in his ring attire Hunter smiled around his bottle of water. "Don't be too hard on him." And with that he spit out the water that he had started to swallow. "_Hard,_ ha!" Slapping his hand down on John's shoulder, Hunter shook his head trying to stop himself from laughing.

_Adam told him? _That was it. John was pissed. Storming through the maze of hallways, he found the door marked with Randy's name on it and turned the knob without knocking. He stopped and glared for a moment, before stepping inside. As soon as the door slammed behind him Randy's head popped up from the tape on his wrist. But not even vividly blue eyes and that look of total remorse was enough to calm John's wrath. "How many times have I told you about that shit?"

With a shrug Randy stared blankly at John and leaned back in his seat. John's face was red and his brows were drawn together in frustration. Randy knew this look all too well. He knew that if he stood a chance at defending himself, that he should just sit back and let John bitch him out before he opted to say anything.

"You had three opponents. Three! But did you do that shit to anybody else? Nooooo. You never do." Folding his massive arms across his chest John stood there waiting for a suitable explanation from Randy, even though none would be good enough for his liking. "It's bad enough it's in front of the entire fucking arena, but then they replayed that shit! And fucking Lawler? I'm fucking him up when I see him for that little comment."

Raising his eyes to the ceiling and trying to bite back his smile Randy placed his hands on his knees to hoist himself from the chair. Upon approaching the space where John occupied he found he couldn't stop smiling anymore. "I'm sorry." It might have sounded sincere if he wasn't chuckling.

"Sorry my ass. You do that shit every time. Why do you insist on mounting me in the fucking ring?"

"I like mounting you." Standing bare chest to bare chest with his opponent, Randy reached his arms out to the wall behind John, trapping the angry man between them.

"You climbed on my back and wrapped your legs around my waist. I was giving you a fucking piggyback ride." Fighting the angry twitch of his lip, John pushed Randy's arms down. He was not letting him worm his way out of this one.

Stepping in closer, Randy leaned in to whisper in John's ear. He couldn't stop his chuckle as his lips found that ever so tender spot just below John's ear. "I thought you liked riding me."

But John wasn't going to be swayed. This wasn't about what he liked. "At home! Not in the fucking ring. And you did that shit in front of Hunter." Moving his body away from Randy and those dangerous lips, John took his stance a few feet away from him.

"Baby, what's the problem? I sold the move. The crowd ate it up. It looked like a battle of strength between us." Randy turned to lean his back against the cold cinderblock wall and raised his brow as John shook his head. "I put guys in submission moves all the time. Did you see the headlock I had Adam in?"

"Did you climb on Adam's back and wrap your legs around him? Did he have to stand up and walk halfway around the ring with you like that? No, he didn't. When you get anybody else in a submission move, you don't lay on top of them and grind all up on them. But let me be in the fucking ring. You're all over me."

"So you want me to mount other guys?" Nodding in acceptance, Randy made his way to the door adjoining his locker-room and the communal shower. "Hey Copeland, John says I can mount you, too, now. So it's on when we get to Pittsburg." Turning back toward John, he raised his brows. "Happy now?"

"Fuck you, Orton." John angrily kicked off his shoes and shoved them in his gym bag. Why did he always have to make light of the situation? Didn't Randy take anything seriously? He was pissed and how dare Randy not respect that.

"I was trying to and you're all pissy about it. What do you want from me, Cena?"

"Oh, don't try that shit with me. You know damn well you crossed the line. What we do at home is _not_ supposed to go on in the ring." Snatching at the button on his shorts, John let the garment fall to the floor and threw them in his bag as well.

The lack of amusement on John's face made Randy worry that maybe he had stepped out of bounds. John had asked him on numerous occasions not to do that. But he couldn't help it. It just felt right to have his legs wrapped around John. It felt good to crush John's body with his thighs. The most natural place in the world for John to be was between his legs. And any part of John's body he could have flush against his chest was a bonus. Fuck the crowd and fuck the people they worked with. Randy was getting his rocks off wherever he could.

Looking at ridged posture of the other man in the room Randy soon realized why it was that John was so upset. "Adam felt your hard-on, didn't he?" The confidence in Randy's voice was only outdone by the smile on his face. "When he went to pin you, you poked him." Pointing at John's jock strap he knew the real reason for this little tirade. He couldn't hide it, not anymore. It was staring at both of them.

"And he told Hunter of all people." Rolling his eyes at Randy's laughter, John threw his bag on the floor. "Shut up." John retorted dangerously narrowing his eyes at the man standing across the room from him. He was trying to be angry at Randy because he went overboard, but John knew the truth. It wasn't Randy. It was him. He was embarrassed as fuck that he let himself get caught up. John prided himself on being able to do his job. Usually, nothing got in the way of his ring performance. But today it was different.

They hadn't been able to finish what they started in the locker-room before the match. If Randy hadn't been running late things wouldn't have gone the way they did. If Orton would have just met him at the arena at 5:00, like they said, they would have time to do what he had been thinking about all day. But no. Orton had to fuck it up and sleep late. He didn't get there until 7:00. That only gave them a little bit of time before the first dark match. And even though there was time for a quickie, Randy fucked that up by deciding that he wanted to be all romantic and shit and have a lot of foreplay. It seemed like as soon as Randy's mouth descended past the waistband of John's shorts the stage manager was knocking on the door.

John had been in the zone. Even jumping around to get the blood flow back to the rest of his body hadn't helped. And seeing Randy in those little ass trunks, on top of the ropes, holding out his belt from the monitors hadn't helped either. Neither did that first lock up, when Randy smirked at him. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

He had ignored it as much as he could. That was until Randy had him face down on the mat. Face down. Then Randy had him in a chokehold and climbed on top of is back. John's pulse quickened and it had nothing to do with Randy's muscular arms around his neck, but more to do with Randy's muscular chest pressed against his back. So, he tried to move. But, now he was face down and ass up. And then he felt those thighs, those thighs that he couldn't get enough of, wrap tightly around his abdomen. That was his favorite position to be in with Randy. Not to mention the smell and feel of the sweat from both of their bodies being all too familiar. It was almost as bad as Randy's panting in his ear.

For a split second John forgot where he was. But one look over in his corner at Hunter's face, he remembered. But Randy wouldn't let up. John had to walk with him on him like that. That was reserved for the comforts of their hotel room, or around their house. Not in the ring. Not in front of their friends.

"Did I say anything when you missed the spot and threw my ass on the mat without warning me?" Randy pouted moving closer to his lover once more. "I hit my head. And it hurt. Look, I think I have a bump."

He would have more than a bump if he didn't get out John's face. "I'm about give you a big ass bump, right on your fucking forehead."

"You dick whipping, now? Ooh…kinky."

"I'm serious, Randy. You can't do that shit anymore. It's not fair." John whined like a child. He hated when he whined, but Randy always had a way of making him forget that he was supposed to be mad at him. He was trying to stand his ground.

Cupping John's face between his large hands, Randy placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry, Pookie."

"I don't like you." John tried to remain hard, but he could feel his resolve slipping. And being that Randy was still in those trunks and he still hadn't been able to escape the feel of Randy's body against his, there was really no point in trying.

Kissing him again with a little more passion, Randy rested his head against John's. "I know. You loooove me."

"We'll see how much I love you next week, when I get your ass down on the mat. Only I'm gonna be professional about it." Turning Randy around swiftly, John put his arm around Randy's chest from behind and swiped at his legs to get him down on the floor. "See, like this. _This_ is a choke hold. This is how it's done and I notice how I don't have to be on top of you."

The clearing of a throat made the two men look up from their precarious position. Adam couldn't stop his electrifying smile if he tried. "Again? Really? I have to be confronted with you dick twice in one night? You need a fucking room."

"Motherfucker this is my room." Randy rolled over until he was facing John and scissored his legs around John's waist. "You can watch me get confronted."

As soon as John felt Randy's thighs around his hips and saw that look in his eyes, he no longer noticed Adam. The rise and fall of Randy's chest and those pouty lips was enough to make everything else disappear.

Besides, John had a few submission moves of his own that he wanted to try.


End file.
